The Dogs of War
by Exterminatedaffodils123
Summary: The Marillion Chronicles: Episode 1.1 Marillion's back on Gallifrey for the Time War, but a crippling Dalek assault leaves her and her comrades on the run. NOW COMPLETE, please R R :)
1. Prologue

What's the best place to start a story? Most people use the beginning…but then, when you're a Time Lord, it's never that simple. In the Earth year of 1000, 900 and 71, a renegade Time Lord, an alien like me, escaped from our home planet of Gallifrey. As he arrived on a dusty little backwards backwater in Mutter's Spiral called Earth, I was sent ahead, to warn yet another Time Lord, called the Doctor, who was currently in exile on Earth.

After I had delivered my message, I transmatted back to my timeship, a TARDIS…or so, that's what I thought. Turns out, it had been stolen by a corporation, set out to find and hold alien tech. So rather than arriving in my ship, I actually appeared in a field. In Guernsey.

So I was stranded. Helpless. Alone. And that's just the beginning….


	2. 1 - Playing Catchup

If you want an idea of what it's like to be a Time Lord in exile, here's how you do it: One. You can't. Two. You _really_ can't. Three. Never mind, let's try regardless. Imagine you've spent your entire life on the move, constantly running, dashing, jumping, moving. Not a care in the world. But then, imagine that one day, you're locked inside a prison cell, without reason nor warning. You can survive, but you can't live.

You're trapped.

And suddenly, all that running, and dashing, and jumping and moving…seems like such an alien concept. Now you're close to getting it.

Every Time Lord is brought up with the sense of right and wrong, black and white, good and bad. The only problem was, that's all we were taught. Oh, of course, we knew how many beans made five, and how many fives made a bean, but that wasn't worth anything, unless you knew when to use it. And why, of course.

That's just some of the thoughts running through my head as I arrived in the field, my head spinning one way and my body the other. I hit the ground hard, and then it all went black. Some Time Lords are able to render themselves unconscious in times of crisis, especially in cases of regeneration.

When I awoke, I was completely different. Due to the transmat failing, my body was shredded and sheared apart, killing me in seconds. Well, it would've killed me, if I hadn't regenerated, and renewed my entire body. It had changed me, from the smallest of cells to the most intricate temporal functions. As a Time Lord, it takes 'temporal' in every meaning.

After a few days of wandering the countryside, I finally managed to make my way back to the mainland, to seek help from the Doctor, and his organisation. It took a few days more to locate the base, and make my way there, switching between walking, hitch-hiking and falling asleep in one place and somehow waking up a few miles down the road.

At last, I had reached the organisation's base. I waited outside, crouched amongst the bushes for hours, waiting for the last of the troops to leave. Finally, the last office light was snuffed out, and the last soldier emerged from the doors, getting in their car and driving away. It was time.

For one of the most important institutes in the planet's history, it held some pretty shoddy security. A few circuit breakers, blow the odd fuse, and I was in. I stalked amongst the corridors, remaining out of sight of the prying cameras perched at every other corner. I searched every room, every office, every cupboard, searching for the Doctor. Time Lords don't sleep, not _that_ often. Someone like the Doctor, someone trapped amongst a swarm of primitive apes, they would take any second to themselves they could get with both hands, and never let it go.

Except they weren't. After a few minutes of searching, I managed to find the Doctor's lab – it was easy enough to identify. Remnants of technology far beyond this culture were scattered across the work surface, with toasters being turned into warp cores and atom accelerators across the room. But there was one thing missing.

The Doctor.

In one corner, a square of perfectly clean floor sat, amongst a thin layer of dirt and dust and decay. After a few moments of examination, I reached the conclusion. It was the right size to fit his TARDIS, in the now-famous shape of the Terran box. It had recently left, departed. But how? If the Doctor was truly in exile, as the Time Lords on Gallifrey had told me, neither his nor his TARDIS would be able to leave this planet's orbit. Something was wrong.

I didn't have time to find out what. A blaring alarm cut off my train of thought, pricking up my ears and quickening my pulse. Somehow, I'd triggered the alarm.

I opened the window just a few feet away from me, and leapt out, my feet screaming as I hit the gravel two stories below. From across the empty grounds, a vicious howling and barking broke out, followed by a soldier's whistle and the stampeding of dozens of soldiers, all on night duty.

Luckily, Time Lords have a slight genetic advantage to humans, thanks to the variations in air consistencies and gravitational pulls of the two planets. In short? They were fast…I was faster.

Within seconds, I had charged across the field, dodging the first wave of sentries, sending some colliding with one another, and others spinning after me so fast they slipped on the wet grass and hit the ground with a splash, sending mud flying into the air.

It wasn't hard to reach the edge of the grounds, and I leapt over the row of hedges, before rolling on the opposite grass to aide my landing. As the guards overcame their stupor, I ran back to the village a few miles down the road, before hiding in the local church. The remaining troops came round about an hour later, looking for me. They weren't successful.

So there I was, with the last chance of escaping this world vanishing in the blink of an eye. So, I did what any good explorer would do – I explored. I travelled by foot and, on the odd occasion, by hand, from one country to the next to the next and so on. I saw the tips of the world's mountains and the bottoms of its crevices, from the brightest light to blackest dark. It took around thirty years to complete my task.

And that's when I got word back.

One day, I was asleep, en route from the Port of Tortuga, on top of a sack of seeds in the ship's hold. I could hear the rushing of wind, and the ship fell away from me. It took me a few minutes for me to realise where I was – the Panoptican. Gallifrey.

As it happens, things hadn't been going too well for the planet in the time of my absence; a war had broken. The war to end all wars. Between two warring peoples – the Time Lords and the Daleks. The Time War.

It had been raging for a few eternities by this point, and they were starting to get desperate for help. Everyone, anyone who had _something_ to do with Gallifrey was summoned without choice, taken from their current time and place and forced to fight in the war. Any was worth the defeat and downfall of the Daleks – we'd fight to the last Time Lord.

But that didn't matter to me – I was back on Gallifrey. At last.


	3. 2 - The Nexus

'Can you give me the stats on the trenches, please?'

Marillion looked up, breaking her steadfast view of the console in front of her.

'Sorry?' she asked, craning her head to look at the man across from her. 'I didn't catch that.'

Faskin laughed for a second, more in disbelief than humour.

'The stats. On the trenches. How are they doing?' he asked again, pointing at the glowing representation of the battlefield on the screen to emphasis his point.

'Oh! Right! Well, the defences are holding for the time being, but they won't for much longer. We need to get the reinforcements over there as soon as possible.'

'That's okay, we can divert the flow through the Cascade. That'll buy them some time.'

The station was almost abandoned, with only two people in the control room, constantly working amongst the towering blocks of computer consoles and panels, a permanent display of information and data being streamed around the tower in a perpetual loop. The War was being fought on countless fronts, in various times and places; wherever the combatants could get their hands on.

This tower was the hub for all information sent from one front to the next, responsible for collecting and distributing information from spies, agents, informants, and other sources in the war. They say a chain is only as strong as its weakest link – the Time Lords had taken great pains to ensure that the Nexus wasn't the aforementioned link.

It stood out from the mountains, a solitary black length of dwarf star alloy. It had no windows, or doors, or air vents. The only way in or out was through a controlled transmat system set up in the centre of the tower. In case of emergency, it would be shut down completely, sealing it off from the outside world and keeping out any intruders.

'We're holding up alright, sir.' gargled the voice over the crackling speakers, broken apart through millions of miles of travel. Fortunately, this was in the same time zone as the Nexus – that was one hurdle removed from the race.

'Okay, Vice-Commander,' Faskin muttered into the microphone, 'Just keep in contact. Any sign of trouble, drop us a bell.'

'Will do, sir.' the Vice-Commander replied, before shutting off the communication.

'How is old Horta doing?' Marillion asked as she entered the control room, the bulkhead sliding shut behind her. 'Been meaning to catch up with him…'

'Good, not too bad.' Faskin replied nonchalantly, returning to his work. 'Of course, the constant flanking of Dalek forces and general warfare is bringing him down a bit…you've still got a lot of catching up to do, haven't you? Ever since you made it back from that wretched planet…'

'There's nothing wretched about Earth!' Marillion shot back, before recoiling from her reaction. Faskin glanced up, finding himself enjoying the new Marillion. The old one had been stuffy even by Gallifreyan standards. But this one was a lot happier, chipper. Amicable.

'Growing keen, are we…?' he asked, a smile breaking out across his face.

'Possibly…' Marillion replied, ending the conversation. A few seconds of maladroitness passed between the two, filled only by the chirping of the two computers.

'You know, I helped design this place.' Faskin started up, with the subtlest tint of arrogance dripping from his voice. 'Upon special commission from the Lord President. Of course, I was a professor in the academy at the time…'

'Well, you know what they say – those that can't do, teach.' Marillion mumbled back, lost in her own world. She glanced upon, and recognised the look of confusion on Faskin's face that she'd so enjoyed in their youth. 'Or is that just an Earth expression?'

Faskin searched his mind for a retort, but couldn't find one. Instead, he glanced across the room – and his eyes grew wide.

'Who the hell is that?!' he asked, even pointing in the direction.

Underneath the bulkhead stood a small man, slight of frame but with a well-crafted face. He was young – _very_ young, probably still in his first regeneration. The perfect crimson of the presidential uniform stood in stark contrast to his pale skin, blanched from the fear.

'E-ensign…Pa-palakit.' he stammered, his lip quivering from the tension. His piercing blue eyes darted across the room, alternating between the two Time Lords stood before him. 'I..I was sent by the council?'

Marillion found herself groaning all of a sudden. The council's presence was _not_ one she was overly eager to feel.

'Well, you better come in, then. You're letting a draught in.' Faskin said, somewhat friendlier than his counterpart. As Ensign Palakit entered the control room, the bulkhead automatically slammed shut, clicking as it locked.

'So, I'm guessing you were assigned to guard us? Faskin asked, walking over to meet the new recruit. 'Not as if there's a war on or anything…'

Marillion scoffed to herself; it's not every day that they get sent built-in entertainment. When there's a war on, you take whatever you can get in terms of joy.

Suddenly, the comm alarm began to bleep, a snap of sound ringing through the air. Marillion flicked the 'answer' switch in a split second, the action now second nature to her.

'Hello?' she asked, looking at Faskin and Palakit the whole time. Only the crackled static of the transmission answered her. 'Hello?!' she tried again, a bit sterner this time. Again, nobody spoke a word.

'Try the test beacon.' Faskin offered. She nodded in reply, pressing the red button just underneath the unit. As she released it, the alarm could be heard over the speakers, loud and clear – the system was working, then.

'Is anybody there?!' she asked one last time. Third time's the charm?

Apparently not. Nobody answered her. Marillion grimaced at Faskin, about to turn off the comm channel. Probably a stupid joke, to alleviate the troops.

And then the screams came.


	4. 3 - Escape Plan

Faskin leapt over the console in a second, standing only a few inches away from Marillion.

'Please state the nature of the emergency!' he bellowed down the microphone, his face fixed in a snarling pose. He was only met with dozens upon dozens of screams, all clambering over each other.

As the comm shut off, Faskin dropped the microphone, the impact just hitting him. However, he didn't have the time. Within a moment or so, he grabbed the microphone again, and tapped in a new sequence into the keypad.

'All stations, this is the Nexus!' he barked, holding up the microphone once again. 'Station 31A is under attack, repeat, Station 31A is under attack. All forces are to rendezvous at the Omega Nebula ASAP. Radio silence until then.' he ordered, the words pouring out of his mouth like water from a leaking barrel.

All of the stations replied, giving their reply code, before shutting off. Finally, the last of the stations answered, leaving the control room in silence. Every computer hummed, awaiting the next batch of information. But none came.

'Now what?' Marillion asked, tossing her communicator aside, like a broken toy.

'Well…' Faskin started. 'We could run. Or hide. Or fight. That's about it, really.'

'This place is a fortress. It'll hold for centuries if it has to. We can hide in here.' Marillion offered…before banishing the thought from her mind. 'We fight' she decided, turning to face Faskin. 'There's weapons in the armoury, enough air to last us, food, drink.'

'Except there's one problem,' Faskin retorted. 'The whole place is dwarf star alloy. We try and blast our way out, we'll just blow a hole in the floor. Won't do much good, will it? Besides, there's no way the Daleks can get inside.'

'There's a rather quaint Earth expression…' Marillion muttered. 'That one should not cook their poultry whilst in utero.'

Faskin tilted his head in confusion.

'Don't cook your chickens before they're hatched. In other words…don't tempt fate.'

As if on cue, a huge explosion roared through the building, trembling all three of the occupants at the top and causing the whole structure to creak for a few seconds. It subsided after a moment, and the air stilled again.

Faskin sighed resignedly, before looking at Marillion. He'd said it.

Outside the building, a trio of Dalek saucers circled the Nexus. Not too long previously, a Dalek squadron had located a science outpost on Hesperus, developing cloaking devices. The squadron had pilfered and replicated the technology, before exterminating the scientists. There were no survivors.

Before the Time Lords had received word of this development, the squadron cloaked their ships and moved into position around the Nexus, with all armaments ready for a bombardment. These ships were state of the art, the very apex of Dalek technology. After a few seconds of heavily concentrated fire, they had managed to pierce a hole in solid dwarf star alloy.

The blow, whilst comparatively small, had granted them access to the inside of the tower. After this, they dispatched a series of missiles, with tore apart the inside levels, sending a great load of it crashing down to the lower section.

The shockwave rippled across the surrounding countryside, and echoed inside the tower, reaching the very peak of it. Without a doubt, the Time Lords would be able to detect this, and move into position to take it back quickly. However, with Station 31A just taken over, the Nexus' last defence was now useless, and a fleet of Daleks was making its way to the tower.

'Any better offers?' Faskin asked, as he strolled over towards the bulkhead. Due to the alarm being triggered, it had sealed itself shut – a common procedure in Gallifreyan battlestations. Every section was sealed off from one another, to prevent intruders from being able to gain access to other sections of the ship, and to hold in any breaches in the noxious gas cylinders used in the generator.

Naturally, this also trapped the three Time Lords in the now useless control room.

Faskin pulled away the panel from the side of the bulkhead, letting it drop to the floor with a clang. Inside, there was a mess of wires, pulled taut from one node to the other – not an inch was wasted on Gallifrey.

He grabbed onto the nearest wire, and tugged on it in a single swift motion, snapping it instantly. A small shower of sparks followed him, which he ignored.

'Wh…what's he doing?' Palakit asked, turning to Marillion.

'Well…' she started in reply. 'If I know Faskin, he's probably trying to cut the power to the bulkhead so we can open it, and slip out. Being trapped up here isn't going to do any good, is it?'

'Er, no.'

'Good. Because the second we're through that door, we're going to have to fight nonstop, in every direction.' Marillion warned, producing the emergency staser from underneath the console. 'Just follow us two, and you'll be find.'

` 'Any good at wiring?' Faskin asked, his eyes boring into his task. 'Only, I'll all toes and thumbs, really.'

'Fingers and thumbs.'

'Yes, that. Well, Palakit? Are you?'

'Er, er, I…I suppose so?' Palakit replied, with a gasp of surprise.

'Alright. Come on, let's see what you got.' Faskin murmured, stepping away from the gap. In his place now stood Palakit, his hands trembling and palms sweating from the tension. Gingerly, he grasped the next wire, and felt around it, shutting his eyes. Marillion and Faskin glanced at each other in wry amusement, not giving anything away.

'I…I think it's _this_ one.' Palakit said, pulling on a wire, masked amongst dozens of others. Marillion and Faskin turned away for a second, bracing for a moment, ready for the explosion.

However, nothing came. The bottom of the bulkhead clicked, signalling the release. He grinned for the first time in months, the wave of relief numbing his legs.

Faskin ran over to the bulkhead, and managed to raise it a few feet, letting it click into position. All of the bulkheads contained a safety measure, a small pin that locked the slab of metal where it was. Now, there was a gap beneath the door, just enough to slip under.

'Alright,' Marillion grinned. 'Let's go.'


	5. 4 - Going Down

As the crack in the shell was now large enough, the saucers started to dispatch advance guards of Daleks inside, fully armed and ready to exterminate. They managed to continue their advance through the tower, shrugging off the Time Lord defences without so much as a shrug. That is, of course, if Daleks _could_ shrug…

Their goal had been decreed by the Stratagem, an alliance of Daleks that had never left Skaro in their short lives. They would take in all the intercepted information and reorganise it, forming plans for battle, designs, weaknesses and strengths.

That was the fate of this squadron; whichever of them managed to leave the Nexus intact would return to Skaro and deposit the information before the Stratagem, who would use it to formulate new plans and continue winning the war.

Of course, this process would kill each Dalek involved. But they didn't care.

The main information node of the Nexus was at the bottom, directly underneath the transmat station. Or at least, that's what the schematics of the tower had said when they discovered them.

Suddenly, a crack appeared in the sky, casting shades of blue, red and silver against the burnt amber sky. A swarm of perfectly round shapes passed through, easily in their thousands, all concentrating around the first Dalek saucer.

Battle TARDISes.

A fury of fire began to break out, as millions of laser blasts began to scatter between the two ships, sending some TARDISes crashing to the ground miles below them, and some spiralling out of control before exploding in midair. Some dematerialized, trying to escape, before being torn apart on the way by the strain.

The first saucer was fractured, great chunks of it being blown away by the effort. But its stream of Daleks didn't relent, constantly flowing into the tower. Some TARDISes took to the flow, picking off the odd Dalek, but it was moving too fast.

Inside the tower, the battle was equally grim. The majority of the Time Lords left in the tower had started evacuations, gathering on the transmat pad before sending them off to anywhere that wasn't here.

Guards fought back, naturally, but it didn't do any good. To put it bluntly, the Daleks were just better than them.

Within a few minutes, there was only a few non-Daleks left in the tower.

The trio stalked through the corridor at the top of the tower, weapons in hand, eyes darting and piercing.

'Okay, it's just here…' Faskin muttered, stopping in his tracks. He was leading the group, checking ahead. 'Or at least, I hope it is…'

He tapped at the panel in the wall, and it slid open, revealing a room of darkness behind it. Marillion approached it, peering inside the room.

At the bottom of it, what seemed like an eternity below, was a tiny speck of light, surrounded by a field of blackness.

'Alright, the gravitational units are running on a separate circuit, so they should've survived the power cut. If not…well, I won't be taking any flak for it, let's just leave it at that.'

'That's got to be…' Palakit murmured, mesmerised by the illusion.

'The bottom of the tower? Yes, it is.' replied Faskin, drawing in a deep breath. 'Now, on the count of three. One…two…three.'

'Hold on, what do we do?!' Palakit asked, panic beginning to seep into his mind.

'We jump!' Marillion shouted, leaping into the chasm, pulling Palakit down with her.

The three of them went soaring through the air, at first plummeting like rocks off a cliff. Marillion and Faskin stretched out their arms and legs, streamlining their bodies whilst Palakit flailed about in the air, reaching for a hold or ledge, anything to grab onto!

He didn't need to. Just before the three reached terminal velocity, the gravity shifted, decreasing rapidly. By this point, they were around halfway down the tunnel, saving them precious seconds in travel.

Eventually, they reached the bottom of the shaft, a few feet above the ground. And finally, the gravitational unit switched off, letting them drop to the ground with all the grace of a particularly clumsy brick.

Marillion dusted herself off, before striding over to the wall.

'The door's just here, right?' she asked, placing her hand on it. Faskin nodded in between coughs, his fist in front of his mouth.

The panel flew away easily, before skidding across the floor and clanging against a wall. Marillion peered through the brand-new hole, before stepping through it and entering the corridor.

It was silent. Not a single weapon firing, or cry of havoc, or death or anything. Just silence.

'Wh…where is everyone?'

'I don't know. But it gives us a chance…come on. Let's move.'

The last of the Daleks slipped through the crack, leaving the abandoned tower behind it. However, a stray TARDIS struck it, sending it flying towards the ground.

The battle was nearly over by this point – the last Dalek saucer was standing, but barely. TARDISes swarmed around it, desperate to pick away at its shields.

'I think it's just over here.' Marillion said, forcing open the next bulkhead. They'd been travelling in the corridor for a few minutes, with each passing second of silence digging deeper and deeper into their nerves.

The bulkhead managed to slide open, revealing the next section of the journey. A length of corridor, around a hundred metres in total, and then one last bulkhead. Then they'd be free.

But there was one thing about to stop them. As she heard it, Marillion slowly spun around in horror, almost too terrified to look. But she did. Because she had to know.

It stared at her with scarlet eyes, whilst blood and saliva dripped from its snarling maw. Ragged breaths were drawn, the beast preparing itself for the next meal.

Four razor-sharp claws pawed at the floor beneath it, and its black fur, matted all over its body, followed the mounds of muscle upwards, until reaching the curve of its spine, two metres above the ground.

It was a Hellhound.

And it was going in for the kill.


	6. 5 - Gotta Get Out Of This Place

'When I say run…' Marillion said, her voice barely above a whisper. 'Run.'

'What?!' shot back Faskin, without raising his voice a decibel. 'Are you mad? It's a Hellhound!'

Marillion glared at him for a second, before returning to the beast in front of her. Gently and slowly, she raised her hand in front of her, before clicking her fingers once. And then again. And then again.

The Hellhound fixed its eyes on her fingers, though it's head remained in position.

'What are you doing?' asked Palakit, only just fighting the urge to run.

'I saw someone doing something akin to this on Earth…' Marillion replied, slowly moving to the side, the stare of the Hellhound following her. 'A way of distracting animals. It won't last for long, so…run!'

Faskin and Palakit jumped for a second, before both heading for the slit underneath the bulkhead. They reached the decision of Palakit going first, before Faskin following after him.

By this point, Marillion had the Hellhound completely mesmerized, fascinated by the snapping fingers.

'Good…dog…' she muttered, before clapping her hands in front of the hound's face. It was stunned by the sudden noise, recoiling for a second. Marillion took the chance and slid through the gap, before pulling herself to her feet and starting to sprint.

'Come on!' she called to Faskin and Palakit, grabbing their arms before running down the corridor. The bulkhead suddenly smashed off of the frame, clattering on the floor, and the Hellhound stormed through the new gap, fully enraged.

'I thought you stopped it!' shouted Faskin over the roaring of the beast in pursuit.

'That's a matter of opinion!'

The Hellhound was gaining on them, its jaw shashing away, getting ready to strike, it's eyes picking out the easiest target amongst the trio of prey.

'Don't let it touch you!' Marillion cried to her comrades, reaching out her hand. She tapped the device on her wrist, and the door at the end of the corridor started to rise. It wouldn't be in time – they were too close to the end by this point. Only a few metres left…

It'd have to do. The three of them dropped underneath the door, entering the next room and plunging them into darkness.

'Get the lights on!' Faskin shouted, scrambling to his feet. The panting breath of Marillion and Palakit were echoing around the chamber, but definitely getting further and further away from him. 'It's a Hellhound, it can see in the dark! We can't!'

'Follow my voice.' Marillion replied simply, stepping towards what was presumably the centre of the room. 'Don't worry, it can't speak. We can.'

'It can _hear_ , though…' Faskin muttered bitterly. Eventually, he managed to find his way to the centre, bumping into Palakit and Marillion.

'Alright, just give me a second…'

'What?'

'I'm nearly done.'

'Done what?!'

'Never mind…'

A spark flew from the centre of the room, and the lights came to life, revealing the Hellhound in front of them, a few yards away. It barked once, before launching itself at the trio, snarling in midair.

Marillion ducked down, squeezing her eyes shut…and pressed the button.

It worked. The three opened their eyes slowly, sucking in a breath of relief. Beside them was a hexagonal console, which towered above them, touching the roof. Circles were dotted around the walls, and cables dangled from the ceiling. They were inside a TARDIS.

'What…' Faskin started, before letting the end of the sentence escape him.

'Middle of a battle, there's going to be lost ships.' Marillion replied. 'I detected it on the transmat station – the saucer's just hit it with an ionisation ray. Removes all hands, but leaves the ship intact. Which means…we're crashing!'

She ran around the console, pulling levers and tapping in commands, her hands virtually a blur.

'Now, I think it would be best for us…if we were to evacuate ourselves.' she stated, distracted by the work.

'What?' Palakit asked.

'It means we're running away.' came Faskin's bitter reply. 'Like cowards.'

'Like…what's the opposite of idiots?'

'Morons?'

'Genius is a bit much…okay, we've got power back!' Marillion cheered, as the TARDIS lurched. It had basic flight control back, then. 'I'm afraid-'

'Knew it.'

' _I'm afraid_ we're going to have to repair as we go. Faskin, get to work on the atom accelerator. Palakit, see if you can get the shields back up.'

'What are you doing?'

'Flying the damn thing!'

The TARDIS soared up into the sky, far above the battle. Beneath, the Battle TARDISes were mere specks on a yellow surface, swarming about like a wave of insects.

'I think I've got it!' shouted Faskin over the din of the rotor, as a panel hummed to life. The central rotor began to churn away.

'Okay, inputting co-ordinates now.' replied Marillion, twisting the dial to her right.

In the sky, the crack appeared again, into which the TARDIS shot, before it vanished. The Time Vortex.

Amongst the sea of swirling and fluttering colours, the TARDIS, still plain and grey, weaved its way, like a master skier, on the world's largest slalom course.

Something was behind it. Something big. And it was getting closer.

'There's still a problem.' Marillion said grimly, sitting down on the command chair with a weary sigh. 'The Hellhound.'

'Yeah?' replied Faskin. 'They've been in the war in the start!'

'On the Time Lord's side. Daleks would never use them, they're too…impure, impractical.'

'Imperfect?'

'Exactly. And every Hellhound is bred to protect Time Lords, not slaughter them!'

'What are you saying?'

'Come on…we all know. There's a double agent in the Nexus, who let slip the Hellhound. A Time Lord.'

'That's impossible…' Faskin muttered, about to return to the console. However, he was met by a shower of sparks, which threw him onto the floor.

In the corner, Palakit grinned, staser raised.

'Told you…' murmured Marillion in a sing-song voice, backing away from the traitor and behind the console. 'Don't worry, it's not Palakit. Mind control, most probably. Best way to use a double agent…make it so even they don't know what they are.'

'That doesn't help us, though, does it?!'

'Well, it's a comfort.' Marillion agreed, before flicking the switch in front of her. The panel facing Palakit sparked, distracting him for a few seconds, before a blast of red hit him square in the chest. He dropped to the ground, his chest charred and smoky.

Marillion blew the top of the emergency staser, and replaced it in the holster.

'We're not out of the water yet…the panel he blew up, that was the shields unit. He knew what he was doing…we'll be defenceless if we can't get it back on in time.'

'And the one you took out?'

'Waste extraction. Nothing major. Just a momentary diversion…what's that?'

On the monitor, a shape was approaching. Round, bulbous and steadily getting bigger. A Dalek saucer.

'Don't worry, it's only a small one…' Marillion said, rapping her fingers on the console.

'State we're in, we couldn't fight a single Dalek, let alone a squad of them!'

The saucer let off a blast, roaring through the vortex. It scraped past the TARDIS, tearing away a section of the wall.

'That's…not good.'

'No. It isn't. Because we're exposed to the Time Vortex…hold on!'

The walls of the TARDIS began to drip away, melting and fading into nothingness, whilst others just fell off and vanished into the colours around them. Soon, the only things left were Marillion and Faskin, holding onto each other, screaming for dear life.

But soon, even that disappeared into nothingness.


	7. 6 - Back in the Day

I can remember, many years ago, back on Earth. It was a few weeks after I'd arrived on the planet, and was still trying to find my way around. I boarded a boat from a city called San Francisco, ready to reach my next destination: Ecuador.

Or so I thought. Turns out, it's rather easy to get boats confused, especially when you don't know the names, and happen to sneak onto the ship. The uniforms should've told me; it was a battleship.

As the voyage continued, I managed to glean more and more information about the destination, by eavesdropping on the passengers. Firstly, it was called Vietnam, a country on the opposite side of the ocean from San Francisco. Secondly, it was currently in the middle of a war with the country I had just left. And finally, that this ship was depositing troops to fight in said war.

Naturally, with it being a war, I wanted to get out of there as quickly as possible. So, I decided to wait until we reached the country, and stay aboard the ship as it returned back to the other country. Except that didn't go _quite_ accordingly to plan…

I had been seen on the ship, by the odd officer here and there. Enough so that, upon seeing me, the nearest officer grabbed me and threw me overboard. He probably reported that I was a spy – but I reckon my skin colour didn't help my odds.

Luckily, the shore was only a few miles away, so I was able to swim there and take refuge in a village, whilst I regained my strength. The villagers were the nicest people I'd met this far, in that race or gender didn't matter. You were treated equally and fairly. Naturally, they were primitive, but so was every human by Time Lord standards.

Then one day, I awoke to the smell of fire. Not the fire that they use to cook, or boil water, but stronger, more pungent. Bad news.

I staggered outside of the hut, holding my jacket to my mouth to block out the smoke. The entire village was in ruins, most of the shacks burnt to nothing more than piles of ashes and dust. Corpses of the villagers lay on the ground, each one surrounded by pools of blood, which had already started to dry.

Next to one of the villagers was a discarded weapon, a rifle – he had been a Vietcong, then. A freedom fighter from this country, who set out to stop the foreign invaders and to protect their land. Fat lot of good it had done him.

I grabbed the weapon, and set off, running through the forest, just to get away from this scene of destruction and death.

Luckily, the coastline wasn't too far away from the village, and I could still remember my way from my arrival no more than a week ago. The same ship I arrived on was about to leave, and the troops were running into it, like a flock of sheep towards their pen.

I pulled the same trick as before and hid aboard the ship, ready to leave this wretched place, when the same officer from the other day found me.

It was wearing the same uniform as him, but it wasn't the same man. Orange scales ran up and down his face, perfectly white eyes glanced at me and his seven fingers grabbed the pistol by his side. In reaction, I raised the rifle.

'Who are you?' I asked him, cocking the rifle. He only grinned in response.

'You know exactly.' he slurred back, showing off his wicked teeth. I sighed, and lowered the rifle.

'A Cacurian. Reptilian shapeshifters, always on the lookout for a quick bit of cash. So what is it this time? Drug-running? People trafficking? Tax collecting?'

'The nuclear weapons of this ship…highly advantageous in a war…'

My face dropped. He couldn't be serious…

'Why are you doing this? This planet can't mean anything to you, it's useless!'

'A fee, offered by a nice man. Called himself the Master…'

I groaned.

'You're being hired. To blow up this planet? Well, I won't let you.'

The Cacurian snarled at me, ready to attack. It lunged forward…and didn't go any further. The line blood trailed from its sternum, and it was dead before it hit the floor.

I managed to commandeer the vessel in a few hours, before disposing of the nuclear device. Piece of cake. Before, however, I asked the troops about the village, why it was destroyed – but I didn't get an answer. Eventually, I just stopped asking.

I learnt four things that day: One, that balancing the fate of the world on a single button is a daft idea indeed. Two, that fire doesn't put out fire. Three, that this world needs protecting. And four? War is like time: it stops for no man.


	8. 7 - Right on Time

The Jeep roared down the street, its tyres squealing as it span around every corner and raced whenever it could. The driver had insisted that it was a shortcut, but Henderson wasn't sure – what with all the stops for little old ladies crossing the street and children collecting their footballs, Pol Pot would probably get there before they did.

However, they finally reached the target, stopping around fifty metres away from it. As the driver turned the motor off, the troops disembarked the Jeep, assault rifles aimed and ready, in full riot gear and gas masks attached.

All 15 of them walked towards the crater, which was luckily formed out just outside of the nearest town, so there had hopefully been no casualties. A cordon was set up around the side of it, to keep out any nosy press or public, and to keep in any they found within the crater.

It was around the size of a house, and went down just as deep. It sloped, however, so the troops could rather easily make their way up and down the side of it. =

One troop, a certain Corporal Potters, stopped for a second at the edge of the crater. He crouched down, shuffling around some of the dirt. He was certain he'd seen something…he was right. It was a sheet of metal, completely flat on both sides and about an inch wide. It was around a foot either way, but with huge jagged chunks around the edge.

As he picked it up, he dropped it again – it was hot. Very hot. So hot, his glove was now steaming, and he'd felt the heat through the strongest material money couldn't buy. But it hadn't melted. So it was definitely alien then.

'Colonel!' he shouted, his voice muffled by the mask. Colonel Henderson, just a few metres away from him, didn't respond. Instead, he just looked into the crater, his hands hanging limp by his sides.

Inside the crater were two people, unconscious, but breathing. As some of the troops lowered themselves to check for a pulse, the others began to pillage the metal around them – but like Potters', it was literally too hot to handle.

There was still a good find in it for Henderson. That face…he definitely recognised it. Back in the seventies and eighties, when he was just a young private, that face was in every office he entered. Of course, by now, it had faded into obscurity. But it was back.

The bodies, once found to be well and truly alive, were scooped up and placed in the back of the Jeep, which drove away a few minutes later. The rest of the troops began to check for loot amongst the wreckage, but Henderson wasn't with them. He was watching the back of the Jeep, waiting for them to wake up. He'd been waiting for this for a very long time…

Marillion woke with a start. The first thing she wanted to do was push the fringe out of her face, but her arms wouldn't respond – no matter how hard she tried, they didn't react. Never mind. She resorted to sweeping her head, to try and get it out of her eyes. But that didn't work either. She still couldn't see, but she definitely felt the fringe move. Besides, it was never that thick in the first place.

This meant one of two things. Either the crash had blinded and paralysed. Or she'd been tied up and blindfolded. At the moment, she didn't know which was worse…

'Good morning!' came a cheery voice, from just behind her. She tried to turn to face it, but it didn't do any good. 'And how are you?' it asked, moving around the room. It was trying to disorientate her.

'Where am I?' she asked, not letting the doubt flow into her voice.

'Well, if you insist…'

The blindfold was ripped off of her head, and the new light blinded her for a second. She soon adjusted. She was in an office, neatly kept, with every folder it its place and every place with its folder. In front of her was a desk, ornate and wooden, with a man sat behind it, beaming like it was Christmas all over again.

'That doesn't really answer my question…' she retorted, staring at the man. Her mind was racing, scrolling through thousands of people, trying to recognise her captor.

'Alright. A secure place. Secret, for certain. Out of the way. Hidden.'

'What is this, Twenty Questions?'

'If you like.'

'Great. Is it a mineral?'

The man laughed.

'I'm surprised you don't recognise it. In fact, I could hardly believe that it was you, after all these years. Quite a while back now, we had an intruder here. They didn't take anything, or leave anything. Just snuck in, had a look around. Naturally, we thought it was the press, but there weren't any stories afterwards. They escaped our guards, and disappeared into the night.'

The man leaned forward, the smile disappearing.

'How did you find UNIT?'

Marillion scoffed to herself, in sheer disbelief.

'You _are_ kidding me! There was a sign outside that said 'UNIT HQ, keep out!''

The man softened.

'Well, yes, I suppose-'

'And you still get your mail delivered here.'

'Now, I see what-'

'And you're in the Yellow Pages!'

This stopped him. Instead of searching for an answer, he simply sat back in his chair.

'And to be frank,' Marillion spat at him 'I've seen jumble sales with better security than your… _secret service_. So if it's _quite_ the same to you, I'd like to be untied now, thank you very much!'

The man stared blankly at her, before breaking out in a raucous laugh.

'Colonel Henderson. Pleasure to make your acquaintance.'

Two minutes later, Marillion was rubbing her wrists, soothing the sore flesh where the binds had just been.

'Now, I think we're all in great trouble unless you let me leave this instant.'

'I don't think so.'

Marillion groaned, rolling her eyes.

'Listen to me. There will be a battle fleet raining down on this planet unless you can let me and my friend reach our TARDIS.' The man's ears pricked up. 'Yes, that's gotten your attention hasn't it? TARDIS. Have you had any sign of it?'

'Er…no. Sorry. Although…there was something, at the crater. Metal, shards of it, all around the site. White hot – it was burning our men's flesh right through the gloves.'

'But wasn't melting?'

'No.'

Marillion groaned.

'Then we've found the TARDIS. It must've broken up in the Time Vortex…it's long gone now. That's not heat on the metal, it's time energy. You probably just recognise it as that…and _please_ tell me you collected it.'

'Of course we did.'

'Okay. That's…good, that's good. Because time energy stands out like a sore thumb to a temporal scanner, which the Daleks will no doubt be using to find us. If it was scattered around the crater, they'd start looking there, which means civilians getting in the way. But if you've collected them, they'll be headed here.'

'Right – sorry, did you say they'll be headed here?'

'Yep. Which means you need to get all your men _now_. We won't have long, a few hours at the most.'

Suddenly, a sight appeared in the window. It was glowing bright yellow, as the sunlight bounced off of its sleek metal surface.  
'It's too late.' Marillion muttered, running over to the window. 'They're here.'

Henderson followed her, pressing his face against the glass. And he saw it.

Hovering above the green grass, was a Dalek Saucer, ready for the kill.


	9. 8 - The Siege

Marillion was hypnotised by the saucer, with even the simplest thought failing to enter or exit her head. However, she found herself instinctively backing away from the window, now pressed up against the desk.

Meanwhile, Henderson had turned from the window altogether. He jammed his finger down on a red button hidden just under the side of the desk.

From throughout the base, a klaxon began to blare, followed by the stampeding of hundreds of boots thundering across the concrete floor.

'Right. You're going to the bunker.' Henderson stated, grabbing Marillion by the arm.

'What? Why? I'm probably the most experienced Dalek fighter on the planet, unless your tea-maid is Abslom Daak.'

'Exactly. I need you alive. There's a bunker, directly under the base, left over from the Cold War.'

'The Daleks'll get through that in seconds.'

'They probably will. That's why we're going to try and stop them before they get there.'

'It's suicide.'

'I prefer kamikaze. Now move!' He ordered, as he shoved Marillion through the door, before following her out and locking it behind him.

The corridor was a scene of mania, as soldiers ran up and down, carting weapons, folders, anything from one place to the next.

'Colonel, I need your authorisation code on the armaments…' a young private said, ushering Henderson down the corridor. Marillion took the opportunity, backing away from the Colonel and heading back to the office.

'Faskin…' she muttered, freezing in her path. Quickly, she span on the spot, scanning the doors around her. Finally, she found it. A second office.

Naturally, this one was also locked – it took her _two_ go's to kick it down. As the door swung around and hit the wall opposite, she creeped inside.

'Nice to see you again…' she whispered, approaching the chair in the centre of the room. 'I can see you're a little tied up at the moment.'

'Mm-mm-mmm!' came the muffled response.

'Sorry? Oh, right. The gag.' Marillion answered, grabbing the fabric around the person's head and loosening it, before dropping it to their neck.

'Untie me!' they repeated – it was Faskin.

'Only if you say please…' Marillion muttered, before grabbing the ropes by the knots and beginning to loosen them.

The first wave of Daleks was being sent over the field, only to be met with a rapid _tin-tin_ of gunfire upon solid metal shells.

'It's no good!' barked a troop to his superior. 'It doesn't affect them!'

'No…' came the reply. 'Alright, lower weapons. LOWER WEAPONS! That's better. We can at least preserve the bullets until we need them. Jenkins, fetch the heavier artillery from the armoury, and quick! We might still have a chance to stop them before they reach the building. Lloyd, get the grenades.'

'Yes, sir.'

The first few Daleks were gaining on the base, before stopping in their tracks, a few metres away from the wall.

'Why are they stopping?' shouted one of the troops. Before the superior could reply, however, he got his answer.

The Dalek started to hum, as its power cells were thrown into overload. Diodes beside its main weapon began to flicker on and off, alongside a crackling of electricity. All the while, the Dalek stared steadfastly at the wall in front of it.

'There's a Dalek saucer outside?!' cried Faskin, as he stood up from the chair.

'Yes.' replied Marillion. 'It must've followed us through the vortex, arrived early. Don't worry, I've got a plan, but we have to move quickly if it's going to work.'

The duo exited the office, running into the corridor. However, Marillion stopped, standing deadly still.

'What's wrong?'

'Shh…'

'What is it?'

'Shh!'

Marillion walked over to Henderson's office, pressing her ear against the wall.

'Can you hear that?'

Outside, Jenkins finally returned with the artillery, a heavy wooden crate being carted around by two rather unfortunate privates.

'Weapons as requested, sir!'

'Perfect timing, Jenkins, as usual…' noted the superior wryly. 'Prepare the weapon.'

However, as Jenkins began to assemble the components of the weapon, the troops all saw something. Peering over the edges of the shelter, they all watched the spectacle in front of them, ignoring the blasts of beams hitting the wall behind and above them.

The Dalek started to rise, levitating up off the grass and higher into the air, without moving in any other direction. It moved higher up the side of the base, until it was level with the top floor. The whining grew louder and louder, a constant crescendo.

'What is it?' asked Faskin, walking over to Marillion.

'I thought I could hear-'

There was an explosion. A huge, earth-trembling explosion. The wall of Henderson's office was blown outwards, sending bits of debris and brick and mortar everywhere. Faskin and Marillion were thrown backwards, slamming against the wall, before dropping to the floor, winding the pair completely.

The billowing smoke began to clear, revealing the obliterated ruin where the office once stood. The folders were in crumbling piles, the shelves no more than ash. A gaping hole replaced the wall and door, with the entire opposite wall missing completely.

The Dalek was still outside the office, slowly floating amongst the wreckage and towards the corridor.

'We've got to move…' Marillion muttered, grabbing Faskin's arm and setting off down the corridor, as the Dalek emerged from the office behind them.

The two of them darted around the corner, letting the Dalek miss them by mere inches, blasting a scorched dent in the wall.

The first wave of Dalek continued through the hole, all of them levitating up and soaring towards the gap. A few of the soldiers raised their weapons, potting away at the leaders, but to no avail.

'Lower weapons.' muttered the superior in defeat. 'They've breached the perimeter. There's nothing we can do now. All troops fall back.'

'Sir?'

'They've got us.'


	10. 9 - Battle Plans

'So now what?' asked Faskin, as he paced up and down the room. The Bunker was a solid steel cage, around twenty metres in every direction. There was one door in, and one door out – a single door that hermetically seals when closed. An air duct trailed towards the surface, but apart from that; it was airtight. Crates of items old and new lay against the walls.

'We wait…' Marillion muttered, leaning against the wall. 'Hopefully they'll just leave us alone.'

She laughed to herself, as the notion sank in. The last time the Daleks let someone alone, a Pan Galactic Gargle-Blaster and a dodgy season of power cuts had been responsible.

'We could at least form a plan…' Henderson thought aloud, circling the bolts on the wall subconsciously. 'A defence, something like that.'

'Think about it. Even if we manage to get out that door, there's a Dalek Saucer waiting for us. If I know my Dalek tactics, then it'll be above the base as we speak. It'll establish a forcefield around the perimeter, so we can't leave and nobody can enter, and then it'll send in the troops to kill us.' Marillion stated, rattling off the words without even realising it. 'Well, it'll kill _you_. Faskin and I, they want us alive. Information, you see.'

Suddenly, the whole room started to lurch, shifting from side to side like a rollercoaster.

'What's that?!'

'That's something they've not done in a while…' Marillion murmured, looking up at the roof. 'They're pulling the base out of the ground…'

'What?!'

'The saucer's flying up, with the shield still active. Basically, it's pulling up the whole base, like a giant claw machine.'

'So if we _do_ manage to deactivate the forcefield…?'

'We drop to the ground and die instantly.'

'Right.' Henderson sighed, letting the words roll over his teeth. 'Well, I'm not going down without a fight. Men, with me.'

He strode over to the door, grabbing the bolt and clicking it open with a low _clunk_. Suddenly, a great howling came from the other side of the door, followed by a rapid banging of flesh upon metal.

'What the hell is that?!' Henderson yelled, as the rest of the troops gathered around him, helping him to force the door back shut. Something was pressing against it, attempting to open it against the soldiers' will.

Eventually, the door slammed shut, and Henderson clicked the bolt once more.

'A Hellhound.' answered Marillion nonchalantly.

'What?!' Jenkins asked, past the point of no return. 'A Hellhound? What is this, Dante's Inferno?'

'No, it's-' Marillion started, before stopping all of a sudden. A thought clicked in her mind. 'Inferno. Of _course_ , that's it!' she added, leaping to her feet, energy bounding from her again. 'Do we have military archives down here?'

'Of course.' Henderson said, pointing to a computer in the corner.

'Brilliant. And all this, this is from the crater?'

'Some of it. The dates are stamped on the crates.'

'Good, good…give me a sec.' Marillion said, picking up the computer and started to type at it, pressing dozens of buttons per second.

'Now, you're…Faskin, yes?' Jenkins asked, approaching the Time Lord, who nodded in response. 'Good, now, I have to ask. Hellhounds…what are they?'

'Well…there was a war. A Time War. Our species, the Time Lords, they needed a weapon, something fierce, something powerful. So they found a planet, called Hesperus. They took the native species, a tiny little thing called a Hesper-rat. Over millennia of controlling the environment, their evolution was altered, bit by bit. Over the years, they turned into the beasts we wanted. Hellhounds. But there's an interesting little side effect; these beasts shouldn't exist. By all laws of nature, they're just…wrong. If they kill you, time can't decide if you should be dead or alive…so you're neither. You get wiped from history, like that.'

Jenkins stared at Faskin for a second, letting it sink in.

'…Right. And…how do you kill them?'

'Nobody's ever gotten that close.'

'Oh.'

'Okay, half done…!' Marillion shouted, walking over to the crate. 'Now, this is from the crater, right?'

'Yes.' Henderson replied, but no sooner had the words left his lips, had Marillion already started on the crate, tipping it upside down and rummaging through the items.

'Careful, they're hot!' Jenkins shouted.

'Nah, it's fine.' Marillion replied. 'Time traveller – background radiation. I'm immune to it. Now, if we just attach the atom accelerator to the chronon generator…'

'Alright, we're getting out of here.' Henderson decided. 'I don't know if we can stop it, or how long we'll last, but we have bullets and target, which is good enough for me. Men, ready weapons!'

A dozen or so rifles clicked as the safety was disengaged and the weapon raised into the air.

'We concentrate fire on the head, give us the best chance of stopping it. Stand ready for my commands, and on my mark…' he barked, as he walked towards the door and grabbed onto the bolt.

'Now!'

The door flew open, and the Hellhound pounced at the group. A maelstrom of bullets pinged off of its head, but a few dents were left in its temple. It recoiled from the soldiers, trying to back away, but the bullets kept coming.

Jenkins approached the door, attempting to flank the beast. However, it saw him, darting around. Within a second, it lashed out, its titanic talons gashing open Jenkins' chest. He dropped to the floor, blood pouring out.

The Hellhound followed suit. The constant array of bullets hitting it had done the trick, it seemed - as it hit the ground, the last of its breath poured out of its mouth, and the eyes fell heavy. It was dead.

'Come on, we're gone!' Faskin muttered, running over to Marillion. Only she wasn't there.

She'd vanished.


	11. 10 - When the Battle's Lost and Won

A few miles above the surface of the Earth, the Dalek Saucer was still flying, gaining height on the ground below. Beneath, dangling like a Christmas bauble, was UNIT HQ, tinted blue by the forcefield, with some of the field taken with it.

This was a second resort – the original plan was for the Dalek forces to exterminate the human forces, whilst sparing the Time Lord fugitives. However, they had reached a bunker underneath the base, which was protected against any technology due to an electromagnetic pulse set up at the door. Technology could be carried through and reactivated inside the bunker, but a Dalek casing could not.

The saucer stopped in its path, at around 40,000 feet in the air. The Daleks were in position, and the plan was in action.

Marillion gasped as she reappeared, falling the few inches onto the ground. She started to look around, before running down. She didn't have long left, but if she played her cards right, it'd be enough.

'Are we ready?' Henderson asked Potters, as the group stood by the north corridor. The Daleks were still in position from earlier, on the field around the base. Naturally, the countryside around the area had been replaced by clouds and sky, but the plan should still work.

'Yep.' Potters replied, nodding his head eagerly.

'Then do it.'

Potters reached into his pocket and pulled out a small length of metal, around the size of a pen. Gently, he unscrewed the end, revealing a small red button underneath. He lowered his finger onto the bottom, and glanced over at Henderson for one last look. The Colonel nodded…and the button was pressed.

'Alright, let's go…' Henderson muttered, moving down the corridor on his own. As he saw the others following him, he held out his hand to stop them – stay back.

Henderson opened the window, keeping his eyes on the nearest Dalek at all times. Gingerly, he leapt through the window, landing on the grass and ducking to his feet.

The Dalek's eyestalk turned around, locking onto Henderson. It started its approach.

'That's it…' Henderson muttered with baited breath, before shouting: 'Come on! I'm over here!'

The Dalek moved over towards him, ready to kill:

'Exterminate! Exterminate! Extermi-'

It exploded. The shell of the Dalek was projected through the air, the explosion following. The flames curled up into a thunderball, half of it cut off by the forcefield. The fire ricocheted back, before dying down.

'Minefield.' Faskin said, as he realised the plan. 'It's a minefield!'

'We barely ever use it.' Potters agreed. 'Shame.'

All of the Daleks across the field stopped in their tracks, before rising a foot in the air. They continued in their path, gliding across the ground with touching so much as a single blade.

'Damn.'

Marillion rifled through the components, tossing most aside, before deciding on the one she needed. Perfect. She tossed it into the satchel, before picking up the leaper. It was as large as a shoebox, only ten times as heavy and littered with various buttons and dials. She tapped in the command and flicked the main switch. She vanished once again.

The battle wasn't going too well. No matter how many times the troops shot at a Dalek, it managed to make a comeback and take a shot back at the UNIT troops.

The troops had tried calling Geneva for help, but they were just a _tad_ out of range. In short…they were rats in a cage with much bigger rats coming to kill them.

Slowly, one by one, the soldiers were dropping, as they got more and more tired, their ammo got less and less and their morale got weaker and weaker.

They had grouped by the main office, or what was left of it, at least. The nearest Dalek was just round the corner, with only god knows how many behind it.

'What do we do?'

'I don't know…just hang on.'

'We have to do something! We're on an island in the sky for God's sake! Who knows how much oxygen's left inside here? Not much, I'll say!'

'Will you _shut up_?!' came the voice from the opposite office. The group silenced themselves, before Faskin walked over, grabbing the door handle. He looked back, before opening it and throwing himself in.

It was Marillion, with a brown satchel around her neck and sat on the chair. Gently, she grabbed the bag and pulled out a device. When he saw it, Faskin's face fell.

'You're kidding me…' he muttered, walking over towards her. The device was made out of wires connecting three large blocks of black something. Two lengths of wire trailed to one side, disconnected at the moment.

'I…I need a watch…' she stammered, lowering the device and the bag to the ground gently. 'Preferably with an alarm.'

'Here.' Henderson said, unstrapping the watch and passing it over to her. 'It's a Rolex…from a friend. Please…treat it carefully.'

'I will.' Marillion said, grabbing hold of it…and smashing it against the floor with her foot. Whilst some of the troops gasped in surprise, Henderson could only emit a startled whimper, before dropping to the ground.

'Okay, alarm, alarm…' she muttered, pulling off the shattered remains of the case and fishing out a bundle of wires and chips. 'Anyone with a gun, hold onto this…box,' she said, putting the electronics down on the ground for a second. The soldiers complied, grabbing a corner or side of the box, as did Marillion.

'Faskin, you're in charge.' she said, flicking the switch…and then the group vanished, leaving Faskin alone in the room.

A second later, Marillion reappeared with the box.

'Okay, you're relieved. Now, I take it you can guess the plan?'

'Pretty much.'

'Good. I just need a few details cleared up first…okay, Dalek forcefields, they close inwards, right? Crushing anything still caught in it?'

'That's right.'

'Good. This'll work alright then.' Marillion decided, crouching down onto the floor and attaching the two ends of wire to the bundle of chips. Just A into A…and B into B. Easy.

Suddenly, she felt a burning flare up and down her right side, and she collapsed to the floor. Softly, she pressed onto the side, and felt the pain swell for a few seconds, before relieving it as she loosened her grip.

She stared up, glancing at the person stood in front of her, pistol raised out in front of him. The remnants of the smoke still trailed from the barrel, the discarded shell on the floor.

It was Faskin.

'No…' she moaned weakly, her vision going red from the agony. 'It can't be…'

'Barely noticeable.' he grinned, cocking back the hammer of the pistol. 'Daleks are so very good at brainwashing these days…shame you won't get a longer show. Sorry about that, but, er…must dash.'

He grabbed the leaper, tugged it out of Marillion's grasp, before tossing it across the corridor and through Henderson's office, before letting it drop off of the edge.

'The Daleks'll be here any moment now. To be honest, they'll be disappointed. I'd heard they wanted to kill you themselves.'

Marillion ignored him, grabbing the bundle of wires between her thumb and index finger, before pressing down. The device clicked – it had started.

Now stood behind her, Faskin raised the pistol, lining up the sights exactly with Marillion. He went to fire the gun, but at the last second, he found himself smacking against the wall, the pistol skidding across the office floor.

Awkwardly, Marillion rose to her feet like a broken marionette, before staggering across the corridor, arms flailing in the air. Faskin gave chase, grabbing her and tackling her to the floor, pinning her down using his superior strength and weight.

Marillion drew up her hand, just in front of Faskin's face, before swinging it around and knocking the side of his head, before repeating it a moment later. He was stunned for a few seconds, which was time enough for her.

She wriggled her way free of his grasp, before sprinting to the edge of the office. Without pausing at all, she kicked the floor with her foot and soared through the air, keeping her legs and arms perfectly straight.

THUD. She hit the ground, rolling for a moment, before coming to an unceremonious halt. Hauling herself to her feet, she searched around for the leaper, in the last few seconds she had…there!

She dived on it, like a live grenade, before knocking the switch and disappearing.

Faskin watched this from the edge of the office, getting ready to pursue her…before he was engulfed by a sea of orange. The flames didn't stop growing, reaching the side of the forcefield, before curling upwards and licking its way up the side. Before long, it reached the Dalek Saucer, which was desperately shutting the forcefield down.

The whole place compressed, like a deflating balloon, as the charred brick dust became atoms and nothingness. The flames touched the saucer, before roaring through it, blowing it wide open. Soon, there was nothing left.


	12. Epilogue - Out With The Old

The explosion was seen for miles around. They could just see a brilliant ball of orange in the sky, before it faded back to the normal blue of England. Same old, same old.

Colonel Henderson found himself in crater, surrounded by all of his men. All around them was British green countryside and blue skies and singing birds. Except for the giant circle of brown.

It would appear that where UNIT HQ once stood, there was now a crater. It was almost as if something had scooped away the entirety of the building.

A few minutes later, there was a flash of light, spooking a few of the newer men. Marillion appeared, her shirt soaked through with blood and covered in dirt.

'I think…' she gasped 'I've got rid of your Dalek problem.'

She laughed a hollow laugh, before dropping to her knees.

'Miss…Marillion, wasn't it?' Henderson asked, crouching down to meet her. 'I think I might have some information you might like. Concerning your TARDIS. A few months after you first broke into HQ, I… _overheard_ two officers talking. A corporation called Nightshade, who, word on the streets was, had found themselves a TARDIS. We never gave it a second thought, but it might help you.'

'Yeah…yeah, it might.'

'Thought I'd pass it on before I forget. Or, touch wood, actually _do_ pass on. Now,' he said, clapping his hands together. 'You must see our, rather literal, field medic this instant. GSW's can easilt become infected if not treated properly.'

'I'll be fine…' Marillion sighed, although she was dripping with sweat. 'Oh, about your building?'

'Yes?'

'…might've blown it up.'

'What?!'

'Yeah, that's where I went. Looking for a nuclear device on an American ship from the 70s. Back in the day, I disposed of it to stop alien mercenaries from getting at it, but…came rather useful.'

'So you detonated a nuclear warhead over Great Britain? An _American_ nuclear warhead?'

'One that's gone missing! Don't worry, it'll be fine. The Dalek's forcefield contained all of the radiation, and destroyed it when the place blew up. The country's clean.'

'If you say so…' muttered Henderson uncertainly. 'But what about our HQ? That's stood in that spot for over 40 years, and it didn't even take you an afternoon to get rid of it!'

'Well…' Marillion laughed, as she grabbed the leaper and flicked the switch, disappearing in a flash of light. 'You know what they say. Out with the old…'


End file.
